


not forgotten

by randomfills (spnfanatic)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Amnesia, Amnesiac Dean Winchester, BAMF Castiel (Supernatural), BAMF Dean Winchester, Bartender Dean Winchester, Canon-Typical Violence, Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, Leviathans, M/M, Post Season 7, Protective Castiel (Supernatural), Protective Dean Winchester, Sad Castiel (Supernatural), spn kink meme prompt fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-15
Updated: 2020-07-15
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:33:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25280107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spnfanatic/pseuds/randomfills
Summary: Dean is a bartender. This sad looking guy comes in every night, and Dean manages to coax his story out of him. How he lost his boyfriend, and he hopes to one day get him back, and Dean offers him a shoulder to cry on, while thinking that anybody who left this gorgeous sweet guy would need his head looked at. Of course Dean doesn’t know that he’s the guy; whether’s it’s a spell gone wrong, that Cas can’t directly tell Dean about - he has to nudge Dean to remember on his own, or something Dean did to himself when the pressure got too much (he can’t remember Sam either), the only way Dean will remember is when he chooses too. Which he does, when demons or monsters storm the bar to take advantage of Cas’s heart broken condition. Dean saves Cas or at least helps him win the fight and then he remembers and he hugs Cas and they go home.https://spnkink-meme.livejournal.com/162590.html?thread=47971358#t47971358
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 8
Kudos: 77
Collections: Supernatural Kink Meme, The Destiel Fan Survey Favs Collection





	not forgotten

It’s been almost two weeks since this guy started showing up at the bar (which is owned by some dude named Reggie - he’s cool, hired Dean and helped him get settled when he showed up out of nowhere limping and with no memories of what happened to him almost a year ago). The guy always shows up at the same time and looks around as if trying to find someone. When he sees Dean smiling up at him, he makes a beeline for the bar and sits. He doesn’t drink much (usually water and a soda, sometimes a beer), and hunches over like he’s trying to become smaller. He doesn’t really talk. He just stares down at the glass of water.

Dean has tried to talk to him at first, make some idle chit-chat. Dean has been told he’s pretty good at it. Knows how to smile and relax people enough for them to tell him something about themselves. He’s been at this gig for a year now. And even before then, even without his memories, somehow he feels like he’s always been good at this sort of thing. But this guy’s different. He seems to be immune to Dean’s charm. And usually Dean could let it go. Guy doesn’t want to talk, fine. He’s not doing anything to harm anyone and if he wants to hang out in a small bar like this with little old him, that’s no skin off Dean’s back (he’s a paying customer so what’s the problem?). But there’s just something about this guy...that gets under Dean’s skin.

It might be the hair, dark and messy like he just woke up and decided not to brush it. Or maybe it’s his eyes, dark blue like the ocean. Or maybe it’s the trenchcoat he always wears? Tan and dirty and doesn’t look comfortable in the slightest. Whatever it may be, no matter what he does, he can’t seem to quash the curiosity.

Dean looks up from the glasses he’s been busy cleaning and watches as the guy sips from his own glass. Tonight he’s ordered beer. He scrunches his face up as he swallows the remainder of the alcohol. Dean feels his feet rooted to the spot as he watches him. He’s entranced. Something in the back of his mind tells him this isn’t something the guy normally does. Except it kind of is. He’s been at this bar for two weeks now. He drinks water or soda or alcohol. He doesn’t talk. Doesn’t so much as smile when Dean tries to joke. He just sits and drinks and listens. For a couple hours. Sometimes ‘til Dean has to tell him they’re closing. Then...then he leaves.

And he comes back again the next night. And it starts all over again. It’s really weird. And oddly familiar and comforting. 

Tonight, however, Dean hopes it’ll be different. He finishes up cleaning the glasses and puts them away and attends to a couple more customers before turning back to the stranger with the messy hair and sad eyes. The guy doesn’t say anything, just like every other night. He doesn’t so much as look up as Dean walks over to him. His shoulders stiffen a little and Dean notices the glass is nearly empty. 

He leans over, elbows on the bar, taking this as his chance at striking conversation, “Hey, man. You want a refill?”

He doesn’t really expect an answer, he’s tried this before, but tonight, the guy surprises him by sliding the glass forward. He still hasn’t looked up but the raspy answer, “Yeah,” catches Dean off guard. It’s deep, almost guttural and Dean blinks because he hasn’t really prepared himself for an answer. A moment goes by as Dean just stands there, before realizing the guy is waiting for an actual refill and he takes the glass and goes to do just that.

As Dean goes to the back, he can’t help the small flutter in his stomach. It’s such a small victory, being able to get the guy to say so much as one word to him, but it’s a victory nonetheless. It’s a step closer to figuring out what this guy’s deal is, and why he’s affecting Dean so much.

The night drags on without much more incident. Dean tries to get the guy to say more, besides the ‘thank you’ after he slides the glass back, but he’s stubborn and sad and drinks his beer silently and then he’s gone. Just like that. 

Dean sighs and helps Reggie close up. It’s just another lonely Wednesday night and Dean knows once they close up, Dean’s going to go back to his empty little apartment and turn on netflix and fall asleep on the couch again. There’s no one to come home to and it’s a little sad but Dean’s managed for a year now. He’ll go back to the bar tomorrow night and he’ll see the guy again and maybe this time, the guy will grace him with his name.

And he does. 

His name is Castiel. It’s an interesting name, one that Dean’s never heard before, yet when he tests it out loud, lets it slide off his tongue, there’s that familiar comforting feeling in the pit of his stomach and the guy stares at him almost expectantly, like he’s waiting for Dean to say something more than just, “That’s, uh, an interesting name. Mine’s Dean.”

His eyes slide down to his drink, tonight it’s a root beer. He mumbles something like, “I know,” so low that Dean almost doesn’t catch it. He blinks, doesn’t understand why the guy would say that because Dean hasn’t really introduced himself ‘til now, then peers down at the badge on his vest and realizes his name is in all caps and he blushes in embarrassment.

 _Well, duh, Dean_ , he chastises himself in his head. He clears his throat awkwardly and goes back to cleaning more glasses and says, “You mind if I call you ‘Cas’ though?” He doesn’t miss the guy’s head shooting up, blue eyes wide in shock and Dean nearly jerks back in surprise at the reaction. “Sorry. I know it’s probably weird. But you’re becoming something of a regular here so I figured, you know,” he trails off with a shrug because he isn’t sure where he’s really going with this and it looks like he’s just freaking out Castiel even more. “I can just call you Castiel if you prefer.”

The guy shakes himself out of his daze and says, “No. No, it’s okay. I should be the one apologizing. You just caught me off guard.”

Dean raises an eyebrow, “Caught you off guard? With the name?”

“Yes,” the guy replies. He pauses for a moment and Dean wonders if he’s going to even continue. The guy looks down at the root beer, his eyes softening and his lips quirking into a smile that looks a little sad. He looks lost in thought. Dean wants to reach out and put a hand on the guy’s and squeeze it reassuringly. But he doesn’t know this guy. Not really. And this guy doesn’t know Dean. They’re just strangers at a bar. So he refrains from leaning forward and invading his space. The guy looks back up at him and he says, “I used to know...someone who called me _Cas_.”

Whatever he’s expecting to hear, it isn’t that. Dean swallows, and looks back down at the empty glass in his hand. He doesn’t know what to say to that except, “Oh.”

The guy shrugs and says, “It’s fine. It’s been close to a year now.”

Dean sets the glass down gently on the bar. He studies the guy, Castiel, carefully. Castiel isn’t looking at him. He’s playing with his root beer, swirling the glass. The guy can’t be more than forty in age, but he’s got lines on his face that makes him look tired, and not the kind of ‘tired’ that a night of not sleeping can do to a person, but the kind where it’s hard to even make it out of bed every day because you’re asking yourself, ‘what even is the point?’ Dean knows that look because sometimes when he can catch flashes of that on his own face in the mirror. But then he blinks and it’s gone and he doesn’t understand. Maybe it’s traces of his old life trying to rise to the surface and Dean wonders if remembering is even worth it.

Dean blinks back to reality when he hears the guy clear his throat. He jumps back, embarrassed to be caught staring. “Sorry,” he mumbles.

The guy just smiles. It’s small and tired looking, but then he says, “It’s okay, Dean.” And there’s something about the way that he says Dean’s name that has his heart flutter. He doesn’t quite understand why he’s reacting like this. He doesn’t get the chance to analyse it further though, because the guy starts to stand up. He takes out an old, battered wallet and leaves a generous tip. “Thank you for tonight. It was actually nice to talk to you again. I’ll see you tomorrow.” And before Dean can say anything, Castiel slips out and disappears into the darkness outside.

The next night, Castiel opens up a little more on his own. It’s a nice change from all the times Dean’s had to initiate their conversations.

“I’m sorry if I ever came off as aloof,” Castiel says as Dean slides him a Dr. Pepper. He takes a seat next to the man, swirling his own glass. He’s decided to take his break a little early tonight because he likes his conversations with Castiel and it’s easier to focus when he doesn’t have to attend to half a dozen things at once.

“It’s fine, Cas,” he says, because Castiel never said he didn’t want Dean to call him that. He looks over to the man and watches as he just sighs.

“It is not fine, Dean. I’ve ignored you the first few times you’ve tried to initiate conversation with me. That was rude of me,” the guy says.

Dean shifts, feeling a little uncomfortable. He, again, wants to reach out and take Castiel’s hand in his. He wants to pull him into a hug, and tell him, “It’s fine, dude.” He shakes away the urge because again, he doesn’t know this guy. Guy doesn’t know him. And he’s a customer. That’d be weird and inappropriate probably. Instead, he finds himself shaking his head before he says, “It’s _fine_ , Cas. I’m not upset. I get it. You’ve had a rough time. You still are.” He hesitates for a moment before leaning over and adds, “And I know I don’t know you and you certainly don’t know me, but for what it’s worth, I think you’ll make it through whatever it is just fine. You’re strong, dude.”

Castiel looks up at him, somewhat startled, and Dean flushes, ducking his head. He isn’t sure what compelled him to say that. But he knows he means every word. He may not know this guy, but he thinks he might be right. There’s something about this guy that just...strikes him as _strong_. Stronger than anyone Dean’s ever known. He’s startled by a firm hand on his shoulder and he looks back up to see Castiel smile at him. It’s a strange smile, one that’s almost familiar and warm, like Dean’s an old friend. 

“Thank you, Dean,” he says softly and Dean can feel his heart flutter again. What is it about this guy that can affect Dean so deeply? 

He tries to pull back, mumbling, “It’s not a big deal. Just wanted to be honest.” But the guy’s stronger than he looks and Dean can’t seem to shake his hand off.

“I mean it,” Castiel says. “Thank you.” Then he finally lets go and Dean almost falls off his stool. “I honestly don’t feel strong but it’s nice to have your assurance.”

Dean straightens up and looks back over at Castiel. Up this close, he realizes just how attractive the man is. From the barely brushed ‘I just had sex’ hair to his crystal blue eyes and lips that looked like they were made for kissing...yeah, Dean isn’t sure how he hasn’t noticed sex appeal on this guy ‘til just now. 

He clears his throat, trying to shake away the not so innocent thoughts, “So, uh, you wanna talk about it?”

The guy, completely oblivious to Dean’s inner turmoil, sighs and says, “Not really, but I hear it helps…?”

Dean shrugs, “I mean it can. Look, you don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. Nobody’s gonna force you to do something you don’t want to do.”

“No, no...it’s, it’s fine, Dean. I do want to talk about it, but there’s...parts that I can’t talk about,” Castiel says slowly, like he’s trying to find the right words. Dean doesn’t understand what he means though and Castiel doesn’t wait for him to ask to clarify. He dives in, head first, “A year ago, I lost someone, someone I cared for a great deal.” He smiles at Dean, and it might be a little sad and it might make Dean’s heart ache and he might want to reach over and squeeze his hand reassuringly. He stomps out the urge and focuses on the guy’s eyes. Blue and stormy like the ocean. 

“The person that called you ‘Cas’?” Dean asks, remembering their previous conversation.

Castiel nods and says, “Yes. The person who called me ‘Cas’.” He smiles and this time it’s genuine and reaches his eyes and Dean thinks it’s gotta be a really lovely smile and Castiel should smile like that more often.

They sit for another few minutes before Dean has to go back to work. Before closing time, Dean blurts out, “We’re closing up, but I’ll see you tomorrow,” before he can stop himself.

Castiel just looks up and for a moment they both just look at each other. Then he stands up and takes out his wallet and leaves Dean a ten dollar bill, along with the price of the drinks and he smiles and says, “Of course, Dean. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Then Dean cleans and locks up for the night and heads home and wonders where Castiel lives. He must live close by. He never sees the man get in or out of a car. He kind of just disappears into the night like Houdini. 

When he gets back to his empty apartment, he can’t help but think about Castiel. The man is the highlight of Dean’s evenings now. He doesn’t remember getting this excited about any other patron before. That night he dreams about Castiel, with that forlorn smile and angelic wings.

The next night, he’s back at the bar, and Castiel is a little late. He comes in, limping slightly, favoring his right side and Dean wonders if he’s okay. He sees Dean and makes his way to the bar as he always does and Dean beams at him, already got a cold beer in a glass and he sets it in front of the man.

Castiel smiles, “Hello, Dean.”

It’s getting familiar and comfortable and one of his co-workers, a guy named Peter, throws a wink in Dean’s direction and whispers, “Think you got a break coming up, man,” which makes Dean grin and he throws his vest over the bar.

He slips into the seat next to Castiel and they bump shoulders accidentally. “How are you doing?” 

“Good. I’m good,” Castiel says, and sips on his drink. He looks Dean over, “What about you?”

“I’m just peachy,” Dean says happily, because it’s true. 

“I am glad,” Castiel tells him. Then they’re sitting in silence for another few minutes. He hears Castiel sigh and he turns to look at him.

He frowns, and asks, “What’s up?”

“Nothing. Well, not nothing. It’s just...you remind me a lot of my...friend,” Castiel says.

Dean’s startled by the answer. Before he could reply, Castiel continues, “The one who called me ‘Cas’ that is.” Then he stops and shakes his head. “No, he was more than a friend,” he says quietly. _Almost_ too quietly for Dean to catch it. He downs his glass and turns to look at Dean. “I’m sorry. I know you probably don’t want to hear this.”

“No, no, man. It’s fine. I totally don’t mind hearing this. I mean, I want to,” he blurts before he can stop himself. Dean freezes under Castiel’s stare. “I mean...in a totally non weird way. If it helps you in some way, I’m all ears, man.”

Castiel just shakes his head and smiles. “Yes, of course. I’m not sure if it’ll completely help, but I want to try. I have to try.” The words don’t really make much sense to Dean but it must make sense to Castiel because he’s suddenly just mumbling to himself, clearly pushing himself to a decision. Dean figures the guy’s obviously dealing with some big issues and it’s important, whatever the guy’s deal. So he decides to shut up and listen. Because Dean’s pretty good at that. “He was family, you know?” He pauses, then shakes his head again. A soft sigh comes out. “More than that actually.”

“You loved him,” Dean says, putting the pieces together. He sees the guy jerk his head back up. Sees the dazed expression, like he’s gone away to someplace far. Someplace that isn’t here and back in memories where the other guy is. Dean feels a little queasy. And he isn’t sure why. He doesn’t know this guy. This guy doesn’t know Dean. He’s just a stranger at the bar Dean works at. He likes to talk sometimes, likes to drink sometimes, likes to listen and sit and stare at Dean while he’s cleaning glasses. He clears his throat, tries to shake away all the weird feelings because they don’t belong there. The guy blinks back into reality and Dean smiles and says, “Tell me more.”

“He was like my other half,” Castiel says after a little while. “The polar opposite of myself in almost every way. Loud and brash, stubborn, didn’t care what people thought of him most of the time.” Most of those traits seemed to be negative but Castiel lists them off with a fond smile, and Dean thinks this must be a hell of a guy for someone to love him so absolutely like that. He feels another pang and wonders if anyone would ever love _him_ like that. “Of course, not many people understood, or really, _wanted_ to understand why I loved him. And I suppose I can’t blame them really. He wasn’t a person that was easy to get to know. He had a lot of layers and walls that stemmed from a difficult childhood and he had a tendency to push people away, especially those closest to him. If you didn’t know him as well as I did, you could easily be given the wrong impression. He was just that kind of person.”

The more he hears about this guy, honestly, it just sounds kind of tiring. He may not know much about Castiel but surely the guy’s gotta be some kind of saint to have put up with a guy like this. As if reading his mind, Castiel just smiles and says, “I still loved him, regardless. There was nothing he could do that would make me love him less.”

And Dean’s a bit in awe of the guy’s patience. He doesn’t understand. Can’t hope to comprehend the complexity of such a relationship. He wonders what happened to the guy. To cause this man such pain, to be sitting alone in this hole in the wall bar with some nobody like Dean to share in his sorrows, something major must have happened to him. Like...like a break-up, or...he gulps, “Did he, uh, die or something?” He thinks maybe it’s the wrong thing to say as soon as it’s out of his mouth but it’s too late to take it back and so he just watches Castiel’s face scrunch up at the words.

“No. No, nothing like that,” Castiel says at last. “Something...happened to us and I lost him for almost a year.”

“So you, uh, found him then?” Dean asks, not sure why he’s feeling a little sad now.

Castiel smiles at him and it’s again strangely comforting and Dean finds himself relaxing, just a little. “Yeah, I did. I did find him.”

“Then shouldn’t you be happy?” he can’t help but ask because Castiel still doesn’t sound that happy. Not as happy as he ought, considering what he’s been saying about this guy.

“Probably,” Castiel agrees. “But it’s not that easy. I may have found him, but he hasn’t found me. Not yet.”

“What does that mean?” Dean asks, perplexed.

“It means I have to wait,” Castiel says simply and Dean still doesn’t understand.

Why would this douche make someone like Castiel wait even longer?

He runs out of time so he shuts up and goes back to work and Castiel seems content in the silence. Before Castiel leaves, Dean leans over and grabs his arm, startling Castiel enough to turn around. “Look, Cas. I’ve got tomorrow off and I was wondering if you wanted to grab lunch or something. Here, of course,” he adds quickly, not sure why he’s even doing this. The guy’s got someone and Dean’s got no right to mess that up, but he’s beginning to like Castiel and he thinks maybe the guy likes him just a little. Besides he’s indulged this far.

He waits a minute, palm sweaty, and he thinks maybe this has been a bad idea and he’s about to open his mouth to say just that, because honestly, Dean isn’t sure how he’ll take a direct rejection and he doesn’t really want to find out. But before he can take back the offer, Castiel just quirks a smile and says, “That sounds lovely, Dean.” And then he’s slipping from Dean’s grasp, and getting out his wallet and leaves a nice tip in front of Dean and waves and says, “I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

And Dean barely has time to say, “Yeah. Be here at four and don’t be late.”

And Castiel laughs and says, “Of course. I’d never be late with you.” And he’s out the door before Dean can even process what he said.

He goes home that night, thinking, ‘ _Fuck that guy. Whatever happened between them, whatever’s happening between them now...he can’t appreciate such a good guy like Cas. He doesn’t deserve him._ ’

Dean gets to work twenty minutes before the actual time because he’s just a ball of nerves and he’s decided he’d rather be that here than at his empty, lonely apartment. Reggie is looking up at him, a little surprised to see him, but Dean just grins and says, “Just decided to grab some lunch with a friend today.”

And that seems to be enough for Reggie.

“You want a couple menus?” he asks casually.

Dean shakes his head. He’s just going to order a burger and fries for himself. “Just one maybe,” he says and Reggie grabs him one. He hasn’t seen Castiel order any food here before.

At four, Castiel walks in, dressed in the same tan trench-coat. He makes his way to sit next to Dean, a menu staring up at him. He peers curiously at Dean and the plate of fries in front of him. He’d gotten hungry waiting, so he figured they could share some fries before he orders a burger for himself.

He slides the plate over so that it’s in between them. “Here. I got a little hungry,” Dean says.

Castiel squints down at the plate. He looks back up at Dean, “I wasn’t late, was I? You said to come at four. I’m sorry, Dean.”

Dean waves off the apology. “You’re fine. You’re not late. I just got here a little earlier, and well, I didn’t exactly have breakfast.”

He isn’t sure what he expected Castiel to do or say to his little confession, but it certainly isn’t for his eyes to narrow as he looks him up and down and for him to feel suddenly small and like he’s under a microscope. “You shouldn’t skip breakfast, Dean.”

Dean turns to look away and shrugs, like it’s no big deal, because it isn’t and this guy ain’t exactly his mom. “Dude, it’s fine.” He turns back and grabs a fry from the plate and shoves it in his mouth. He stares back at Castiel whose gaze hasn’t left his. “I’m eating now,” he says almost defensively because Castiel’s stare is getting a little unnerving. “And since you’re here too, you might as well help me. Don’t make this weird, man.”

He watches as Castiel’s gaze finally shifts down to the plate and he grabs a couple fries with a somewhat stiff motion and eats it slowly. His expression is eerily blank as he chews, then swallows and Dean thinks this is kind of weird so he just looks down and scoops a couple more fries and shoves it into his mouth.

They both order burgers and Dean downs it with some beer. Castiel gets a root beer and Dean can’t help but roll his eyes. 

He catches Castiel staring at him a couple more times as he moans around a large bite of burger. “What?” he mumbles after he swallows.

“Nothing,” the guy says and Dean knows it’s a lie. As if sensing he’s caught, Castiel sighs and puts his burger down. “It’s just, again, you remind me of, you know. Him.”

Right. The jackass who left Castiel. He isn’t sure if it’s a compliment or an insult. He waits for Castiel to elaborate but he doesn’t. Dean sighs and says, “Is that a good or bad thing?”

Castiel blinks and looks up at him. He ponders for just a moment before saying, “It’s a good thing. Trust me.”

“Okay, sure,” Dean says. He takes another bite and lets his mind wander. He likes Castiel obviously, but the guy is still pretty hung up on this other guy, whose name is still a complete mystery to Dean. “What’s his name?” he asks.

Castiel stares at him for a moment, seemingly lost for words. “I’m sorry?”

“The guy you said you still love.”

“Oh,” he says and trails into silence as he continues to study Dean like he’s a new species he’s trying to figure out. Dean has to turn back to his food. He’s sure he isn’t going to get an answer. Then, “I’m sorry, Dean. I can’t tell you.”

Dean tries not to be disappointed as he pushes a fry around on his plate. “Yeah, okay.”

“I’m sorry,” Castiel tells him again. “I want to tell you, but it’s...complicated.”

“Sure,” Dean says again and eats a couple more fries, not because he’s hungry, but because he feels like it’s expected of him. “So, what’s brought you to this bar? And don’t tell me it’s the guy. I understand if that’s why you’re in town. But there’s gotta be something you like about this bar, besides getting drunk and wallowing in your sorrows.”

He doesn’t really expect an actual answer but Castiel is full of surprises. “I like the atmosphere and the...service.” When he looks back up, he sees the guy wink at him. He tries to pretend his heart isn’t doing that weird flutter. He doesn’t need to get any more attached than he already is. Besides, this poor guy’s already going through a lot. He doesn’t need Dean’s unwarranted little crush to be added into the shitstorm.

They talk for a couple more hours and Dean tells him things only a few people know, like how Dean hasn’t exactly lived here all his life, that he stumbled into it, with the help of the owner of this bar. He’s been set up in an apartment that’s close by and he doesn’t own a car. He’s only been here a year and he doesn’t even remember anything before then. Castiel listens with an intensity that should honestly scare Dean. But instead, it’s oddly comforting.

Castiel in turn, shares some details of his own life. Like how he used to travel for a profession, with his old partner, the same guy he apparently still loves. “It was...very dangerous,” he says vaguely. “But we were both very good at it. The job.”

Dean snorts, “What did you do that was so dangerous?”

“You could say we were exterminators of sorts,” Castiel says. Dean can tell it’s only half the truth, but it slides off of his tongue so easily, like he’s said it a million times before.

“Right,” Dean says, though he’s not really convinced but it isn’t really his business. Instead he pulls out his phone and changes topics, “I’ve got a couple videos I wanted to show you.”

And he shows him some of his favorite bands and music videos and he sees from the corner of his eye the way Castiel’s face lights up in a smile when he hands over his phone so the man can browse Youtube. Again, he wonders how anyone with a heart can just leave a sweet, innocent guy like Castiel to drown his sorrows in this beat up bar night after night for almost a month now. He doesn’t really care if it was the guy’s fault or not initially. Because this guy could man up right now and whisk Castiel off to someplace better, away from Dean, if he really loved Castiel the way Castiel still loves him.

The date or whatever it is, really, flies by. Dean learns to hate the guy who’s stolen Castiel’s heart just a little more because honestly, the more he spends with Castiel and gets to know him, the more he’s convinced himself this guy has absolutely no flaws. He’s sweet and kind and gentle and understanding and he’s got more patience than anyone Dean’s ever known. He doesn’t understand some of Dean’s jokes but that’s not really a flaw, because he does this adorable head tilt that melts away any annoyance Dean feels.

But none of this really matters, he chastises himself. Castiel is a taken man and Dean obviously doesn’t stand a chance in hell.

Afterwards, Castiel still comes to see Dean during his evening shifts. He smiles and greets Dean with a, “Hello, Dean,” and Dean just hands him a glass of root beer and hangs his vest up and sits down beside him.

“Hi, Cas,” he says with a wide grin.

They talk about their day and Dean is just happy that the date hasn’t ruined their friendship. He doesn’t even care when Castiel starts talking about the other guy whose name he still won’t share with Dean. The guy still hasn’t manned up and confronted Castiel yet, or else he wouldn’t be here with Dean. Dean’s torn between being a little sad because Castiel really deserves better than this douche if he’s being honest, but he’s also a little happy because that just means he has Castiel all to himself. For now at least. And maybe it’s a little petty to think that way, but Castiel deserves some happiness and Dean thinks, for now, Dean could provide a little of that.

He shows Castiel some more videos he’s found on Youtube and Castiel surprises him when he pulls up his own phone and pulls up some cat videos. They’re both grinning like idiots over dog and cat videos and Dean wonders when he’s been this happy. Certainly not in the year he’s been in this town. And he can’t remember anything from his past. He thinks it’s probably been a long time.

Another week passes by without incident. Castiel continues to visit him and Dean continues to talk with him. He isn’t sure how to define his relationship with Castiel. He likes to think they’re somewhat friends now. That he can reach out and touch his hand in a reassuring way without it being weird. 

Before they close up for the night, Dean reaches out to Castiel without thinking and pulls him into a quick hug, “See you tomorrow?” He lets go and leans back to see Castiel staring at him for a moment in surprise. He can feel his heart jack-hammering in his chest.

Then Castiel smiles, wide and genuine, “Of course, Dean. Where else will I be?” And he throws down a couple tens and waves and slips out into the rain as Dean sags in relief.

Of course, Dean should have realized it couldn’t continue to be this perfect. This isn’t a movie after all. It’s real life. Everything has to go to shit eventually. Eventually, of course, is a sunny Monday. Dean’s got a different shift. He’s covering for one of the newbies, Lola, he thinks her name is. She came to him less than a week ago begging to switch shifts because she has a family thing to do and Dean kind of felt bad for her so he agrees to the switch. He tells Castiel about the new schedule and the guy just nods and says he’ll come by earlier then.

Dean isn’t really used to some of the customers that stop by this early (around noon instead of four) but he does his thing, chats with the more social customers and takes down orders from the less socially inclined. It’s going pretty well and Castiel comes by around two. He looks a little tired but he smiles when he sees Dean.

Dean’s got a couple glasses and hangs up his vest to start his first break. They chat for a little while and Dean goes back to work. It’s going all fine and dandy, until almost five. There are a few people in the booths and another person at the bar besides Castiel but Dean’s the only one busing tables when a couple guys come in. Dean looks up just in time to see Castiel standing up and turning around, his face scrunched up in anger. Dean’s never seen Castiel angry before, not like this. It’s startling to see and he isn’t sure what’s going on but then suddenly the man is flying from one end of the bar to the other and customers are screaming and running out and Dean just stands there dumbly because it’s like his brain is still trying to play catch up.

Then suddenly, Castiel’s voice is shouting, “Dean! Dean, look out!” and Dean only has a fraction of a second to duck as a stool that is supposed to be bolted to the floor is flying at his head. He still doesn’t understand what’s going on as he crouches in the booth, his heart feeling like it’s going to explode out of his chest. But he’s barely got any time to analyze and figure out what the hell is going on before Castiel is suddenly right in front of him and whispering, “We have to get out of here, Dean. I wish I could explain further, but those are Leviathans and they’ve finally found me.” Then he’s looking directly into Dean’s eyes and pressing his fingers to his forehead and Dean feels like his whole world is slipping away as his eyes start to get heavy and he starts to sag to the floor. “Forgive me, my friend.” Then he’s greeted with darkness.

He wakes up, groggy. His head is pounding and he wonders what the hell happened to make him ache like this. He opens his eyes slowly, blinking into the darkness. Sitting up, he feels his back pressing against the wall. He tries to adjust to the darkness but soon finds blue eyes staring at him. He nearly jumps before realizing who that could belong to. “C-Cas?”

Castiel is on him before he can even blink. “Are you okay, Dean?”

“Uh,” he isn’t sure what to say, because now that he’s got a little more time to think, it’s slowly but surely coming back to him. He presses himself further into the wall, trying to get away from Castiel’s reach. The man notices and recoils his hand. Dean feels a little like a douche but he’s still a little out of it and kind of freaked out. He doesn’t really understand what happened except they got attacked at the bar. Dean almost got his head clocked in by one of the bar stools and Castiel...he did something to Dean. He turns away so he doesn’t have to see the look of pity on his face, “I’m fine.”

It’s a lie. They both know it is but Castiel doesn’t point it out. He stays quiet as Dean tries to process what’s going on. Finally Dean asks, “What the hell happened back there?”

Castiel sighs and when Dean turns back, he looks older and tired and sad, like he’s holding the weight of the world on his shoulders. Despite himself, Dean kind of wants to reach out and take part of that crushing weight off him. “I suppose I have no choice but to tell you now,” he says and he looks at Dean sadly. “We were attacked by Leviathans, Dean.”

“By what now?” Dean asks. The word seemed vaguely familiar, like he’s heard it before, but he swears he hasn’t. He’d remember something weird like that. There’s a small pang in the back of his head, and he reaches up to touch his head, hoping he could soothe away the slowly blossoming pain.

“Leviathans. They were God’s first creations,” Castiel tells him, his expression serious.

Dean blinks. Leviathans. He still doesn’t understand. “Um, okay.” 

“I believe they were after me,” Castiel continues. “I’m sorry, Dean. I...didn’t think there were still any left. It was a year ago since...their leader was destroyed.”

Dean is still frozen, half listening as Castiel bows his head and says, “You have to understand that I would never willingly bring harm to you.”

He jerks out of his shock, the full meaning of Castiel’s words finally sinking in. He holds up his hands in a placating gesture and says, “Woah, woah, hang on now. Sorry, I’m still having a hard time following but you can’t, uh, think this is your fault, Cas.”

Castiel looks up at him and Dean freezes again under his cold stare. “But isn’t it, Dean? I helped destroy their leader so of course should any Leviathans survive, they would come to enact revenge on me. I had foolishly left the task of cleanup to another and didn’t think to double-check. I should have just to be sure...but I’d lost him in the...blast and had to find him.” Dean hadn’t even realized he’s sucked in a deep breath until he’s slowly releasing it. Castiel doesn’t seem to notice. He’s too lost in a memory. “It took almost a year because the blast had sent me on the other side of the world and I’d been weak for the first six months, but I’d been able to recover, mostly and since then, I’d been relentless in my search.” When he looks back at Dean, his eyes are glowing white.

“What...what are you?” Dean asks, not daring to look away.

“I am an angel, Dean,” Castiel’s voice is soft.

And Dean’s still not really understanding all this. He thinks maybe this is a dream. It can’t be real. But there’s no time for him to ask any more questions because suddenly the ground seems to quake and wherever they’re at, some warehouse maybe with the dimly lit crates and stuff...things start to fall off and crash to the floor and Dean hasn’t even noticed the mirror nearby until it starts to shake and break into a million shards and Castiel is suddenly on top of him, shielding him from the pieces of glass with a slightly pained grunt. “Hold onto me, Dean.”

And Dean has no choice but to reach out and take Castiel’s hand and suddenly they’re somewhere else now, somewhere outside and they’re both running and there are more of those things that look like regular people except they’re too fast and they’re chasing after them and their smiling these creepy, impossibly wide grins and they’re mouths are open gapes of sharp teeth that can only come from nightmares and Dean doesn’t remember this because it isn’t real. Except he does and it is. And his head is starting to throb and he almost slips and falls but Castiel doesn’t let him. His grip tightens and the angel glows impossibly bright and Dean has to shield his eyes and when he does...he remembers.

He remembers Castiel and his angelic wings and the first time he tried to shove a knife through his heart. " _I am the one who gripped you tight and raised you from perdition._ "

He remembers Castiel hopped up on souls. Old souls. Souls from purgatory. “ _Cas is...Cas is gone_ ,” says the Leviathan riding Castiel like he’s a twenty dollar prom dress.

He remembers Death saying, “ _There are things much older than souls in Purgatory. Long before God created angel and man, he made the first beasts. The Leviathans._ ”

He remembers Dick Roman and his plan to use all of humanity as one big human food farm.

He remembers stabbing Roman with the decoy bone and Roman taking it out and snapping it in two. “ _Did you really think you could trump me?_ ”

He remembers standing in front of him and saying, “ _Honestly? No._ ” And he remembers taking out the actual weapon and Castiel grabbing Roman’s head in place as he slams the bone into the side of his neck. He remembers being surprised that worked. He remembers Roman looking surprised too.

“ _Figured we’d have to catch you off guard._ ”

Then he remembers Roman trying to shift but whatever’s in the bone, it's working. He can’t break free and Dean remembers just standing there, watching, waiting, for his head to explode or melt or something, _anything_. He remembers Roman suddenly grinning, remembers not expecting him to, remembers seeing something pulsing in the air. Remembers half thinking it's nothing. Remembers changing his tune another second later when the air _continues_ to pulse - _something’s off, maybe he should run_. But, but he’s rooted in place. He _can’t_ move. Then Roman explodes into a million pieces and Dean shields his face out of habit and he remembers vaguely hearing Sam and Kevin rushing in and Sam shouting, “ _Dean! Cas!_ ”

And then...that’s it.

Dean jerks back to reality and he turns to Castiel because he remembers him now and he says, “I remember. Cas, I remember!”

And Castiel just smiles and says, “Welcome back, Dean. Now hold on.” And Castiel teleports them to another place. When Dean opens his eyes again, he thinks maybe it’s familiar and then he gets a glimpse at the apartment complex and realizes why. He turns to the angel and Castiel looks at him, somewhat sheepishly, “I’d been here looking after you for the better part of a few months. I decided to rent an apartment because it was more convenient. I figured if I was close by, I could get to you easier if you ever wound up in any trouble while you were still...recovering.”

Dean raises an eyebrow. It seemed like a lot of trouble just to look after Dean, but he can’t deny he isn’t relieved and grateful. “Thanks, Cas.” He pauses, and asks because he’s curious, “How’d you even get the money? Did you get a job too?” He can’t imagine Castiel working something so mundane and human. Castiel is a warrior of Heaven after all.

“No,” Castiel says after a moment. He doesn’t elaborate and his eyes sort of glow in the dark and Dean’s about to ask about other things but the Leviathans find them again and Castiel takes out a knife from his coat and tosses it over to Dean.

Dean grins as one of the monsters slowly moves toward them. He can feel the familiarity of the cool weapon in his hand. The Leviathan lunges forward and Dean deftly steps to the side and swipes the knife down onto its neck. There’s jets of dark oozing blood and he can hear and feel the crunching of bone as he cuts into it, and the monster lets out a pained howl and wow, Dean’s really missed this. He can’t believe it’s been a year since he’s held a knife or a gun and he’s taken out monsters.

He lets the Leviathan crash down to the ground in front of him, its head rolling somewhere behind him. He gets into a defensive stance and stares at the other two Leviathans. They stare back at him. “Well come on, we ain’t got all night,” he tells them.

They rush him and Castiel and get their heads cut off for their troubles.

He turns to look at Castiel once they're done wiping the black ooze off. The angel is standing by his side as Dean says, “It’s good to be back, Cas.” And he knows what he is saying is true. He missed Cas. He missed this. While bartending has been interesting, it certainly doesn't beat being a hunter. Nothing does.

Castiel just sighs and smiles, “It’s good to have you back, Dean. I missed you.”

**THE END**


End file.
